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    September 26, 2005

    No

    There was once a boy who just so angry with his dad. They were at a funfair and he wanted a balloon, but his father would not get one for him. Every kid in the park had one: pink, red, yellow, green and blue! He cried and cried and pestered his dad to get one for him too. Imagine a balloon that could float! One that would bounce along everywhere you went!

    "I want a balloon!!" he cried.

    Oh, the poor boy. They spent an entire day there at the fair, but he could not enjoy the wild rides his father took him on, or the fluffy cotton candy and delicious spicy hotdog his dad bought for them to share. Even the silly clown and the sneaky magician could not entertain him enough to distract him. All the boy could think of, was that if only he had a balloon, the world would be right as sunshine. He hated his dad terribily because his dad would not budge despite all of the tantrums he was throwing.

    "I want a balloon!!!" he wailed.

    But time had run out, the carnival was closing soon and the boy still had no balloon. As father and son walked away from the happy colours of the stalls, they spotted another kid, crying, with his hand pointed up towards the sky. He cried and cried and cried, "Mommy! I want my balloon back!!"

    And there it was, up in the sky, floating ever further away into the blue. Free.

    The poor, poor kid was devastated. He had loved the balloon as he played with it all day long, but now it was gone. Nothing could be done to get it back. If only he had held onto it harder.

    "I want my balloon back!!!" he wailed.

    The father nudged his son, "Come on, let's go home. Would you like to finish the cotton candy or should I?"

    Posted by zai at 11:21 AM | Comments (0)

    September 13, 2005

    Differences

    One afternoon, White met Black.

    And White shrieked, "Stay away from me, disgusting and depressing one! I am White, of doves and snow, the symbol of all things pure and good. As is the morning sun, I am like Hope that brings forth Light. You, you are so different from me! How could something like you, so deathly and diseased, ever come about?"

    To which Black shouted back, "Useless and fragile one, begone! I am Black, of void and evil. Cousin of Night and friend of Death, I engulf everything I touch. You, you make me laugh! How could something like you, so pale and weak, ever come about?"

    The master artist finished pouring the white paint into the black paint on his palette, took his brush and mixed the two colours together.

    And he carried on painting.

    Posted by zai at 11:55 AM | Comments (0)

    September 08, 2005

    Crown Him King

    There was once a king who was a strong and mighty warrior. Inspiring and invincible, he ruled a vast empire of high snow-capped mountains and wide open plains, decorated by pockets of shining seas. But the king was restless and unhappy. "I want more!" he would declare, burning with raw ambition each time he stared into the far horizon. "I want it all!!" And so he waged war upon war to conquer all the lands of the earth.

    Finally, he did conquer all the lands of the earth. His armies swept aside all opposition everywhere they went and as his enemies crumbled before him, the king became insufferably arrogant. Not one was there who could stand up against him. Upon his victorious homecoming, he commanded for the grandest of all coronation ceremonies to be held to crown him King of the earth and everything in it. But he needed a crown.

    "Send for the best blacksmith in the land and have him make a crown worthy of the King of the earth and everything in it!"

    Now, there lived a humble old blacksmith who was famed for his craft. He was skilled in shaping and molding the hardest of alloys, having spent his entire life laboring tirelessly over the fiercest of fires. The blacksmith was brought to the king's palace and there he toiled over red fire for many days and fashioned a flawless masterpiece. Resplendent and radiant, its enchanting aura arrested all who laid their eyes upon it. The supercilious king was elated and ordered for the blacksmith to instate him as King with the crown he made.

    So amidst the majestic sounding trumpets and colourful flowing banners at the coronation ceremony, the humble old blacksmith brought the crown to the king who was seated high on his throne. As he presented the crown, the blacksmith looked straight into the eyes of the king and said, "The man who made this crown, did not make the metal ores he used to create it. O King, though you built an empire, did not make the land or the people you used to establish it. That, your Majesty, is my counsel. Here, my Lord, is your crown."

    Posted by zai at 05:05 PM | Comments (0)